The Wind up War
by bluescat
Summary: Colonel Sebastian Moran-centered story. His first meeting with Moriarty and their work together. BBC!Sherlock verse. M for language and violence. I will work on the next chapter if I get some positive feedback :) Sorry, not beta'ed yet... Hope you'll enjoy it :D
1. Chapter 1

He has been bored. Ever since coming back from Afghanistan, he has been bored all the fucking time. He couldn't find his own place in old foggy London, he missed the hot sun, scenery of war, the sound of flying bullets or bombs going off. He was aware that it wasn't normal, but London was just far too peaceful for him, it lacked the excitement of the hardships of survival in the middle of fight. It was just plainly boring.

Sebastian was a good soldier. He mostly listened to people above him, he worked hard, he wasn't slacking off and more than anything, he was an excellent shot, getting his soldiers an upper hand in many missions. He would hide in bushes or abandoned building, set his sniper gun and one by one take his aims down, without them realizing what's going on or where are the bullets coming from. Then the regular soldiers would storm in and finish the job. Yes, he was a good and valuable soldier indeed, but he had some deviations of his own, he liked to take care of his own stuff on the side and some people didn't like it and grew tired of averting their gazes from it. And so despite being such a useful gunman to the army, he was sent back to his country. As a reward for a _mainly_ good service, they spared him the shame of dishonorable discharge, but still he knew that it was exactly it. Well, after all they called him to the office and listed all his misdoings for him. He didn't pay much attention, he didn't care that much then. He thought that he'll get good money anyway, so he'll be able to make a proper living in London. But he didn't take into account how much will he miss the war. And so here he was, discharged with honors (only on paper), with enough money to get a small flat (he though he'd get more, he was disappointed) and with no purpose to his life.

His days mostly consisted of walking around the streets, drinking, getting into fights, drinking, pick-pocketing for fun and some more drinking. He was a mess and he was well aware of it. He even tried getting a proper job, it wasn't really that difficult, he graduated from Oxford after all, but it totally wasn't for him. He needed some adrenaline, he needed it so badly, he felt like a junkie denied the access to his drugs and yet he had no idea what to do about it. He felt like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off and he was a little bit scared that one day he will just lose it, take his gun (always in excellent condition, cleaned and checked regularly – Sebastian loved his guns above everything), find himself a nice spot with the view of a crowded street and randomly start shooting people chosen on a whim. And then when the police will barge in, he will just finish himself off to escape the boredom of a life-long stay in prison. It was as much appealing to him as scary. After all he still clung to his life, silently hoping for something to happen. A little war to take part in would be nice. And lots of guns, please. And explosions and dead bodies.

He had no idea, that what he hoped for, would come to him so fast. Maybe it wasn't the kind of war he had in mind – one with the military troops of an adversary country – but actually it ended up being far better, more thrilling and liberating than it. The day when it all started or more like sucked him into a crazy whirl of not so sane ideas of a certain well-known criminal, has been just the same as every other day since he arrived back in the Queen and tea-loving country of England.

He got up around the noon, stinking of cigs and alcohol and with a massive headache, reminding him of last night's drinking. He didn't really remember how he got home, but he couldn't care less. He was only a little disappointed that he turned out to be alone in his bed. He was probably to drunk to find any nice company. He got up with care, trying not to move his head too much and slowly walked to the kitchen. He fetched some water and headache medicine, gulped everything down and moved to bathroom to take a shower. When he glimpsed at himself in a mirror, he looked like a big dirty mess, no wonder he couldn't pick anyone up last night… When he got off the shower, he looked like a big clean mess, not that much of a difference really. His eyeballs were blood-shot, he had a four or five days stumble on his chin, dark circles below his eyes, hollow cheeks and his blond messy hair has grown far too long and was blocking his vision. He took it of his eyes and with a miserable sigh started to shave.

After making himself as presentable as possible, he came back to the kitchen to fight with his headache over a cup of hot morning coffee. Actually there was no point in making himself look presentable, cause he was going to get himself wasted this night too, but maybe at least he won't come home alone this time. He didn't consider himself very handsome, but he thought of himself as attractive, not to boast or anything, but when he tried, he always could find a pretty girl to accompany him. He was fond of his blond hair, he thought it looked good on him, also he had light blue eyes, he was tall and well-build. Well, maybe he got a little bit flabby recently, but that's what excessive drinking and smoking and no exercise does to oneself. If he only had any motivation…

But with all his motivation gone or maybe dead or squirming in some black deep hole, instead of going jogging or doing some exercises, he simply got up and reached for his gun-case. Holding guns always made him happy. The weight of cold metal in his hand, the power over one's life that comes with it – it was totally exhilarating. But he couldn't get a real taste of this power nowadays, so he just proceeded to clean it and then even went as far as setting it by the window and taking an aim on his neighbors one by one, such an easy prey without any knowledge of the hunter on their tracks… It would be like shooting down less dangerous animals for fun. But he was well aware that he could not pull the trigger and that made him fucking frustrated. One day he's really going to snap and just do it. Though he'd prefer a better enemy, someone who could bite back, someone who could try to outwit him, to attack instead of giving in. He thought of the tiger he once fought with in Afghanistan. It was sort of a bet with the local men. They knew there was tiger nearby cause their stock kept going missing, two or three persons' dead corpses were found too and the footprints and the leftovers left no wonder as to the offender's identity. And so he said, he'd find it and he'd take it down for money. They bid him a final goodbye, being sure he will never come back alive, but indeed he did and he brought the tiger back with him. The fight was very well-balanced, thrilling and dangerous. He has gotten into a direct fight and even though his knife tore the beast's heart to pieces at last, its claws still managed to leave him a big scar on his chest and a smaller one on his face. But what an excitement it was! Remembering the image of the beast's eyes still gave him goose-bumps all over his body. Oh, those were good times…

Sebastian has realized that he was spacing off, so he carefully put his gun back into the case and flopped himself on a cheap and uncomfortable couch (the first one he found acceptable, but later he regretted he didn't look for it a little more to get something more comfy). It was the shitty telly time. He jumped through the channels and in the end he set on a detective movie, but the hero did too many impossible things and the main villain was too dumb and obvious so after a while he just threw the remote at the screen, stood up, grabbed his jacket and went out to get some fresh air.

It was autumn and it was starting getting chilly. The sun was far too bright for Sebastian's eyes but the cold wind was refreshing. It was already past the afternoon so he decided to head towards his favourite pub. He gave a nod to familiar barkeeper and asked for a simple beer. Shortly after followed the second and the third one. It was already dark outside and the pub filled with cheery people, drinking, talking, flirting, singing. Sebastian wondered over his forth beer how these people can be so happy, when the life itself was so mundane and unappealing. Suddenly he spotted a pretty girl in a black dress by the counter – she had nice long hair and even nicer long legs. Quite a good catch. He decided to sit next to her and try his luck.

- Hi, pretty. Why do you sit here alone? – he asked for starters and motioned to the bartender to get something for her.

- Actually I'm not alone, my boyfriend just wandered off for a second. – She answered off-handedly, but her body language said that she was clearly interested in Sebastian. She looked him over and scooted a little closer. – Martini, please. – she added, when she spotted the barkeeper looking at her and waiting for her order.

She sipped her drink slowly and they started talking. She indeed came with her boyfriend here, but he unexpectedly got some stuff to do so he had to leave her for a while. A girl disappointed with her boyfriend's sudden disappearance from the date… Well, it was a good advantage just asking to be taken. They talked about little nothings; about Sebastian's facial scar (the man-eating tiger story always gets all the girls hooked), about her ass-stupid boss and job and so on. He was already sure that he's lucky tonight and that he's taking her home, when suddenly someone tapped him on his shoulder.

- Oi, fuck off from my girl, who do you think you are? – came a slur from behind him.

Sebastian looked around and saw a tall, not really handsome guy with a cut lip. The girl seemed scared and concerned for her boyfriend, she was about to start explaining the situation, but it's not like Seb was going to give up now.

- We just spend some nice time here when you were away on your "business" and I'm terribly afraid that it'll be you who has to fuck off, cause I'm not leaving this lovely girl. – A little pub courtesy is always welcomed, isn't it?

But the answer to it was a fist flying to his left cheek. He swiftly dodged and threw a punch to his nose. The guy's face got all bloody, but it didn't seem to scare him off and so they continued lying punches on each other and they ended up in the back alley behind the pub. There were quite a few people who followed them outside to cheer. Sebastian got a bruise or two and that guy was still bleeding properly from his nose and now cut brow. Suddenly a knife appeared between them.

- Who the fuck do you think you are, motherfucker, hitting on my girl like that?! – he was now swinging the knife in front of Seb's face. – Maybe I should get ya another scar, huh?! Would it teach you a fucking lesson to stay away from McCurty?!

Sebastian has never heard about any McCurty and he couldn't care less at the moment. He was in his element again. That guy wasn't much of a threat, but he could feel the excitement and the thrill from the possible danger and for a second it felt like a freedom to him. Well aware of his own skills, he knocked the knife off of his enemy's grip, with a fast turn he picked it up and cut slightly across McCurty's upper arm and chest. It wasn't a deep cut, but that guy shrieked like a girl and run off while screaming some undistinguishable obscenities at Seb. Sebastian was disappointed, he wanted to play some more, but instead of that, that McCurty wuss was already far away, the little crowd of spectators around him was cheering for the winner and there was a distant sound of police sirens approaching. Well, it's time to disappear into thin air, Seb decided. He took a quick look into the pub to check for the girl, but she was gone as well, same with his unfinished beer. Even more disappointed, he exited through the front door and went straight to his place, trying to hide his face and proceed unnoticed as much as possible. Police's attention was far too troublesome.

When he got to his flat a sudden sadness took over him. He got himself a fight and he felt very lucky for it, but the girl was gone and he didn't even get drunk. Just… not the way he had imagined this night. He hated it when something goes not according to his plan. Blah. Angry with the world, he went to sleep early and dreamed of hot Afghan sun and finding a trail of a dangerous wild cat.

* * *

He was awakened by the morning sunlight. Damn, he forgot to close the blinds. Growling, he got up and as he was checking the contents of his fridge after the morning shower (or rather the lack of thereof), he decided to eat out. He didn't feel like going shopping nor cooking right now, the sour mood from the day before still hanging around him.

He went to a small place near his flat, he had heard some good opinions about it. It was promising with its light-colored interior and a nice smell, so looking through the menu, he settled for eggs over the bacon. As the waitress took his order, he couldn't help looking after her really short uniform skirt.

- _Quite a sight, isn't it?_

A voice with unidentifiable accent and a strange sing-song tone to it was heard to his right. He spared the man next to him a glance, not really interested in having any company right at this moment. He just wanted to eat his breakfast in peace. It was a dark-haired guy, smaller than him and dressed in a fancy, expensive-looking suit. _Who the hell wears a suit to a place like that?_ The smaller guy smiled at him, but the smile never reached his eyes, they remained strangely cold. There was something really sly and foxy about him. He had this unpleasant aura. Sebastian decided to ignore him and instead he concentrated on studying the people passing the streets on the other side of the window.

- Not so talkative today, huh? Seems like yesterday you had more to say and not only on the peaceful level. – The sing-song voice was heard again.

Sebastian tensed. What the fuck did the guy want, how did he even know about yesterday's fight, was he sent by that jealous wuss or what? The situation was just strange and the manner of speaking the smaller man used was unnerving. He looked at him again but still remained quiet.

- Oh, you're wondering how do I know about it and what do I want. Actually, you see, Michael McCurty_ was_ one of my clients and he came _oh so crying_ to me yesterday, telling me about a big evil guy. – Sebastian's brow went up at the word "was". – Don't be so surprised, he paid well, but he was so annoying that I thought that making him into a jacket would serve him better than freely walking around the city. Anyway, I was hoping to ask you of something and I even decided to do it myself, cause I was just across the street and the breakfast seemed like a nice idea.

Sebastian wanted to say something, but the waitress chose this moment to bring the food. The strange fellow must have made his order before going over to Seb, cause few sandwiches for him were also brought. Seb felt lost with the man sitting next to him – he didn't know what to think of what he said. A client? Making him into a jacket? Well, that must have been a joke for sure. Something to ask? What could he possibly ask Sebastian, he saw that McCurty bloke for less than an hour, it's a miracle that he still remembers his name. Bewildered, he set for a simple "Who the hell are you?".

- You don't really need to know my name now. Let's just say that McCurty came to me for an advice with his, _oh_, "business", but he wasn't too lucky and convincing and now you may possess an information I'm interested in. But on the other hand I know a lot about you, colonel Sebastian Moran. You're an ex-military soldier, you were on a mission in Afghanistan for quite a long time. You're well skilled both with guns and knives, you also know how to fight bare-handed. You miss the war and enjoy violent surroundings. You live alone of military wages is a small dump on Conduit Street, you're a heavy-drinker and smoker and you really should do something about that bruise on your left cheek, it looks nasty. Your hair's in bad condition as well. – He said, wincing.

- What the fuck?! – was everything surprised Sebastian could get out of himself. He watched the other guy nibbling at his sandwiches, trying to make sense of the situation. – How the fuck do you know all that stuff about me, you little…?

- _Language, my dear!_ – again the annoying sing-song tone. – You yourself tell me most of this, you're actually like an open book. Not to forget that I was keeping an eye on you for quite a while already. I could say more, but perhaps you don't want to listen to it. Now – he put his sandwich down – back to business. Do you remember well the knife McCurty had with him yesterday? – Sebastian nodded his head, he pays attention to such things. – Then could you maybe tell me if it had golden "PoDC" written on it? – A nod again, he remembered seeing these letters, though he had no idea what do they mean. – That's just marvelous! Seems like the jacket will be soon joined by a nice tie. And now, the other business, an idea which made me look into you in the first place after I have heard of your dishonorable discharge…

- Oi, it wasn't dishonorable…!

- We both know quite well that it _was_. Back to the topic - you'd enjoy a little thrill and some blood, dead corpses and maybe some guns on an everyday basis, right?

Who the hell was this guy and what was going on? Sebastian still couldn't pin-point it, but at the mention of guns, he became interested despite himself.

- Are you offering me something or…?

- 'Cause you see, I just lost a valuable man recently, quite a nasty little accident I tell you, I misplaced my fork in his head, you see… - Sebastian stopped wondering about that guy, the whole conversation was just too weird and kind of surreal. – Anyway now I have an open spot for a gunman and you look like a capable man and a soldier's discipline is always a nice addition. I think you'd really love this job.

- A gunman? And what do you expect me to do…? – Sebastian asked warily. One thing he knew for sure – this whole business was illegal as hell and he had to admit he liked the idea of it.

- In my line of career sometimes there are people to be taken care of and I do like my hands clean, blood and dirt under nails are hard to get rid off and getting a new manicure so often is troublesome… I'm a brain and I need capable hands to hold a gun for me. I do pay well, but I don't tolerate insubordination. In fact I don't tolerate "no" as an answer to any of my requests. – And here goes Sebastian's choice. Somehow he got a feeling that this guy was no joke and that he could also use a long-term visit to mental hospital. - I think you would much enjoy shooting an actual living creature once in a while, cause isn't the feeling just great? How do you feel about your new job? You're taking it, am I right?

The black-haired guy smiled sweetly at him, but that smile was totally sickening. Still, what choice did Sebastian have? And to tell the truth he felt really intrigued. At last something's happening. Suddenly he felt light-headed and he wondered if he's just dreaming it all. But everything around him, apart from that guy, seemed a little too _real_ to be just a dream. He was still going over everything in his head, but his body betrayed him and decided on its own account as, dumbfounded, he nodded his head again.

- That's just lovely! – said happily the smaller man – You're starting now, colonel Moran, oh, and by the way my name might come in handy now, so again, it's nice to meet you, colonel, and my name is James Moriarty, but I have a feeling that it will be better for you to just call me "Boss" or "Sir" if you value your various more or less useful body parts. – Again that sickeningly sweet smile.

_ James fucking Moriarty_. He has heard of this motherfucker. Great, he's totally fucked. Probably he's not going to make it till the next week. Oh, but who fucking cares anyway. At least he's going to have fun while he's still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sebastian heard the buzz of a cell phone, soon followed by Bee Gees' "_Stayin'_ _Alive_". Moriarty fished his phone out of the pocket and cast a glance on the screen. _Bee Gees? Seriously?_**

- Twenty-five or twenty-seven? – he answered the call with a languid voice and then smiled brightly at what he heard. – Throw him out, no need for cleaning up. - He got up from his seat, his sandwiches long-forgotten and exited the place without any goodbye or instruction for Sebastian.

In fact Sebastian's breakfast was also long-forgotten already. Probably cold and not tasty anymore. But who cares. Was he just recruited to work for James Moriarty? For _that_ James Moriarty? The golden child of London's criminal world who pulled the strings of his lesser evil guy-wannabe puppets all over the city? He has heard a lot about him, mostly hushed whispers actually. It was insisted that he dealt the information, organised crimes, had contacts everywhere and could buy anyone. But nothing could ever be traced back to him, he was never convicted for anything, so "_James Moriarty_" was more of an urban legend than flesh and blood. Some people claimed to work with him, some even dared to say that they have seen his face, but no one really believed them. Nobody knew how he could possibly look like, but after Sebastian had _the pleasure_ to really meet him, he was surprised at his looks. Somehow he was sure that the guy was a real deal, that it was neither a joke nor someone acting as Moriarty, his aura was unmistakable, but still, apart from said aura and his vicious smile and cold eyes, he didn't look like the type. For instance he was short and scrawny and it was really bugging Sebastian. He didn't look like someone who could stand any chance in bare-handed battle. He probably had a whole army of well trained bodyguards following him everywhere… But Sebastian hadn't noticed anyone and they are usually quite visible, being seen and intimidating is their mission. _Oh, his sober mind is thinking too much about it_, he won't gain anything by analyzing Moriarty or their meeting. But still Seb has felt well appreciated. He had been told that he has been watched for quite a while and that means that Moriarty was really interested in him. Isn't it something? Finally someone praised his skills. This really brightened his mood.

He paid for his untouched breakfast and went outside, intending to go home again and stop by the nearest shop to get a pack of cigarettes. And then another thing popped up in his mind – Moriarty really hasn't left any contact information nor instructions, so Sebastian had no idea what to do now. He wondered if he should ask around certain groups of people…

He just spotted the shop and wanted to enter it, when a black expensive car stopped by him and the doors opened. Wow, just like in movies, isn't it? Sebastian knew that he should feel uncertain about it or maybe even scared, but all he felt was pure excitement. He looked around, but none of the passing people paid them any attention. _Doesn't it look at least a little suspicious…?_ He got unto the back seat and closed the doors. The interiors matched the expensiveness of the exterior with their leather seats and board computers for everyone. Next to him sat a blonde woman dressed in elegant shirt and a middle-length skirt with big sunglasses hiding half of her face. She reminded him of a secretary or a manager in big company. He tried smiling at her as a greeting, but she didn't respond. The front seats were hidden from his view, so he couldn't see the driver. The car started to move and Sebastian kept glancing between the woman and the landscape on the other side of the car window which consisted mostly of business buildings, while wondering about what's going to happen now. All he knew right now was that he could show his middle finger to the boring and mundane life and that thought made him silently chuckle.

- We will need you unconscious for this trip, colonel. – Declared out of blue the blonde and before he had even time to process her words, she injected a needle in his arm in one swift move and the world was suddenly so far away and the darkness was so comforting that Sebastian couldn't help, but close his eyes and give into it.

* * *

He opened his eyes groggily and after few seconds the reality came back to him. He remembered all his military trainings and so instead of panicking, he calmly took into his surroundings. He was sitting on a chair, _cuffed to it_, as he realised after an attempt to stand up. The chair seemed to be fully made of metal and bloody uncomfortable in addition. Or maybe it was just his stiffened muscles reaction. He was in a sort of warehouse with big containers with Chinese symbols on them. He couldn't spot any windows, door nor signs indicating exits. He also felt no draft, the air was completely stale. The only light was coming from a buzzing bulb hung over him. When he listened closely, he also heard quiet ticking noise below him. _It cannot be…_

He looked down, trying to locate the source of that noise and then he realised that he has a note taped to his legs. With letters resembling children's scribble, it said: "_Hello, my dear, you have approximately ten minutes now_". _Don't you "my dear" me_, he thought, but then he realised that he has no time to lose, getting annoyed about that. He had no idea how much time he has lost already, while just looking around and taking in his situation. It was clear to him right now – he had less than ten minutes to get out of his cuffs and run away before he will be blown to pieces by a bomb under his chair. _That sick bastard is putting me through a test…_ He made a quick work out of opening his handcuffs despite his – as he just realised – trembling hands, but the cuffs on his legs had a more tricky lock. Sebastian tried to simply shake them off, but it was impossible. Couldn't he have smaller feet?! He kept working on the lock, he was getting more and more nervous, he could feel his blood pumping through his veins like crazy and he knew that he was losing the control of the situation. How much time left? It was the crucial question. He listened to the ticking again and it was a little faster this time. _Oh come on, it would be such a shame to day on the first day of my new job!_ An irrational thought, but it helped him to calm down. Then an idea occurred to him. It was just so obvious that he started laughing. With his hands free he could reach for the bomb! He took a peek under the chair, trying not to lose the balance with his ankles still cuffed to its metal legs and spotted a small bomb attached with the same tape as the paper on his thighs. He couldn't see the timer nor the wires, so he just strapped the mechanism off and decided to throw it as far away as he could manage, hoping that the explosion won't be too big. The swing of his arm was too strong though and his chair overturned together with him. He tried to stop the fell with his hands, but he ended up scraping them to blood and knocking his head and knees painfully on the cold floor. A second later everything behind the containers lightened up as the bomb went off in a far corner of the warehouse and even though he was sheltered from the blast, the explosion was so loud that he lost his hearing for few moments.

He rolled over and, safe at last from the ticking noise making him think of an incoming death, he started working on the cuffs again. His hands stung and blood mixed with dirt was all over them, but soon he managed to get his ankles free. He scooted to one of the containers – much safer than the open space – and then slowly stood up. His whole body hurt, muscles stiffened, he was dirty and bruised all over, but he had no time for inspecting his state right now, he was frantically looking around, checking if there isn't any trap laid out for him. This was Moriarty's test so there surely will be more to it. He decided to walk around the warehouse cautiously and examine it to look for the exit or any clues, but then he almost jumped out of his skin as suddenly a song started playing really loudly, its source somewhere close to him.

Startled, he recognised the song as… The Beatles' "_Let it be_". Should he interpret it as some kind of message or is it just his new boss' bad taste? Heavy music is so much better after all! He spotted a ringing phone lying on the ground next to a container, "One incoming message" displayed on it. He tapped the screen to read it. "_There's someone after you, honey_". Right then Sebastian spotted red laser dot next to him. He reacted on an instinct and within seconds ducked behind the closest box. He was lucky, cause the bullet almost scrapped him. He tried looking out from his shelter, but a second bullet followed right away. Well, this is where _the fun_ starts. He was truly in his element right now. He decided to circle the containers, trying to be as quiet as possible and to stay out of the sniper's line of sight. He didn't manage to get any glimpse of the gunman, but he knew more or less where did the bullets come from and he hoped that that guy won't move and he'll keep a steady lookout to take Sebastian down the next time he spots him. Seb managed to get to the other side of the warehouse unseen. He risked taking a look at the place he imagined the sniper would be – he thanked he's luck again, cause indeed he saw him crunching with his gun there, but he was facing an other direction. _Stealth_ _skills still in good form_, Seb thought with a sly smile on his face. He started to wonder what his next steps should be. What is actually expected of him? Is he barely to run away from the warehouse, should he overpower that guy or maybe he's expected to… _kill him_? He set for the second option – that sniper might have been of value for Moriarty, so taking him down might be a bad idea, but running away was out of question too – he had to impress his new boss.

A thought that maybe he might not be able to do it, that he will fail haven't even crossed his mind. He was hundred percent sure of himself, this little battlefield, as Sebastian saw it, was to him like an ocean to a fish. Or perhaps to a shark, because Seb thought of himself as of a predator here and the sniper was merely his soon-to-be victim. At this point he took off his shoes and managed to make it behind the sniper without making any noise. After that he knocked the gun off of enemy's grasp and reach skilfully and threw himself at him. He couldn't see his face hidden behind a black mask, but he heard him growling in pain, as he laid punch after punch to his head. Few hits later the sniper laid unconscious under heavy-breathing Sebastian.

He calmed himself down and saw a note stuck to the rifle. He wondered, how could he miss it before and spot it only just now. Another warning for him? Overly aware of everything around him, he grabbed it quickly and read. "_She seemed to me as if she was done with living already_". Eh? She? Done with living? He meant "_dead_" for sure, but what did the message have in common with his situation right now?

He heard a creak in a far dark corner of the warehouse, soon followed by a quiet crying. A woman crying. _She_. So his next mission had to be shooting her. For a second he felt unsure. He had no idea who she was or what has she done to earn such a miserable fate. But then… if it's has to be done, then he's going to enjoy it. He was a bit on the sadistic side, he knew it very well and he wasn't denying it. And killing a human, taking away someone's precious life gave him a special thrill, one of a kind. He finally realised that being a gunman, an assassin was a perfect job for him. Maybe he just had no conscience after Afghanistan. He was a selfish person, so he intended to just go with the flow and have his fun.

The sobbing was growing louder and louder, he could hear the soft footsteps too. He took the sniper rifle with him and climbed a container. After setting it down, he took a quick look around the open space of the warehouse, everything properly visible to him now, and he found her. He gasped in surprise. It was the waitress from the breakfast place. She was still in her uniform, now dirty and torn, her face was red from crying and she had bruised legs. She slumped down on the ground and started mumbling something, while hugging herself with her hands and swaying back and forth. Sitting in the middle of an open space was certainly a stupid thing to do right now, but it wasn't a reason enough to sentence her to death. She probably had no idea of what's going on and why she's here. She had no connection to the whole affair whatsoever apart from being in a bad place at a bad time and catching Moriarty's eye. He became hesitant. To shoot her or…?

Again the red dot appeared next to him, then a second one, a third and forth too and then their slowly moved and disappeared, but Sebastian knew that now they were pointing at the back of his head. _So it's me or her_. Moriarty mentioned something about not accepting any insubordination. That makes the choice easy. After all he valued his own life far more than some random stranger's existence. He wasn't the heroic type and he wouldn't give up his life for anyone. The girl was still sitting and sobbing, her face hidden in her hands now and shoulders shaking. _Pitiful_. He took his aim and the sound of shot reverberated all the way through the warehouse. The red splashed across her forehead and her body fell back, sinking into now appearing red pool of blood.

Idle clapping was heard in a distance. Seb stiffened, searching for the source of this sound and then he spotted… Moriarty himself. He had different suit than this morning. Or was it yesterday? Sebastian had no idea how much time has passed since he was drugged in the black car. He had this smile of his plastered to his face again and he was lazily advancing towards the place where Sebastian still was laying down with the rifle in his hands.

- Your performance was quite enjoyable – he started – though I'm not sure if you'd do so well without my clues at the beginning. Any thoughts of your own? – there was no answer so Moriarty continued. – Again not so talkative, that's BORING, Moran. – his shout was so out of place, that Sebastian's whole body shuddered.

- Erm… The second cuffs were quite tricky. – Hard gaze from Moriarty. - …Sir.

- Not so much, really, your skills just seem to be rusty, my dear.

_Stop fucking my dearing me, you twat._ – Yes, sir.

- But you should be happy to hear that you passed the exam, you'd be quite useful, you will start with smaller jobs. You can take his position. – He pulled a small pistol from his jacket and shot the guy in question, the unconscious sniper, without batting an eye.

Seb, startled again, quickly got further away from the now dead body. _Who knows if Moriarty won't freak out and shoot him now too?_ He should get used to it, this was everyday life for him now. He didn't feel bad for the dead sniper, losing always meant death in Sebastian's opinion, but all that was happening right now still managed to alarm him. He remembered hearing once as someone called Moriarty a ruthless psychopathic bastard. He could see now why. _Seems like he'll be the best boss ever_, Seb thought with sarcasm. But still Moriarty could give him what he needed, he had the cure for his never ending Afghan war hangover, so he wasn't about to protest in any way.

- What do you expect of me now, Boss?

- For starters I asked you to cut your hair… - Had no time to do it, Sir. - …and oh my God, if aren't you a total mess. – he winced. - Don't talk back to me. I'll let you know if there's anything to be taken care of, be alert, if you're slow, someone might be faster than you. – Seb glanced at the body at his feet. – Right, right, you'll end up just like hiiiiiiiiiim. Equipment will be waiting for you. Leave no traces. Don't mention my name or your teeth will be made into dice. Actually your skull would look nice on my mantelpiece, I think. – He looked him over. – Go do something with yourself, your looks are _appalling_.

Moriarty turned on his heels and exited the warehouse. That was it? He walked out of the building few minutes after Moriarty, his boss was gone already by then. It was dark outside, the stars very well visible on the black sky, something he cannot experience in the middle of London. There was only one lamp in front of the warehouse. There was no other building around him – only an old road leading God-knows-where. No sight of any vehicles nor city, only this one building, lonely road and hectares of fields. Was he supposed to go home now? _But where the bloody fuck was he in the first place?_


End file.
